


Shark Cheddar

by momothespicy (momothesweet)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Beach Sex, F/M, Lifeguard Jesse McCree, Reader-Insert, Sharks, Smut, Sort Of, Universe Alteration, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, just....stay with me on this alright
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-06-07 15:34:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15222272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/momothesweet/pseuds/momothespicy
Summary: You're on vacation in Ilios and run into a hot lifeguard....again.





	Shark Cheddar

**Author's Note:**

> IT'S SUMMER AND IT'S HOT AND I'M DYING
> 
> This fic is probably a year late bc of the lifeguard skin but I. do not care
> 
> Universe alteration tag present because Jesse already has a prosthetic arm (which he doesn't have in Blackwatch as far as I know) and uhhh there isn't a whole lot of tension and sadness like in canon

Your solo Ilios vacation before your brand new job should  _ not _ have been this crazy. And yet, here you are in your hotel room, sporting an unflattering bandage around your ankle and foot because your drunk ass tripped and fell off a dock the night before. Thankfully, the lifeguard on duty assisted you, putting up with your slurred declarations to dismantle the patriarchy and rebuild the country with a foundation of women who support one another. Sure, you may have made some sound statements drunk, but now you want to get back the day you wasted nursing your hangover by heading out to the beach for to watch the sunset and drink some wine. Much less wine, this time around.

That’s probably not the best idea. You could easily watch the sunset from your hotel room, high up with a view of the town and the ocean. It’s not the same with warm sand in your toes and the smell right up against your nose, though. Ocean waves are calming for you. They provide a sense of peace and continuity. It’s just what you need before jumping right into your job in Overwatch. For a long time, you’ve been wanting to do more for others. You’ve been wanting to take your compassion to a global scale. The minute the opportunity arose, you were on it in a flash. Now you’re celebrating before your big step forward.

Getting out to the beach is not as hard as you expect. You sport some cute slides with a sundress donning your favorite color and flower. The swelling’s gone down on your ankle and it’s not the biggest pain in the ass to move. The walk isn’t terribly far from the hotel and the spot you get in the sand is a ways away from kids running away from the tide and teenagers grossly showing off their summer romance. You get a little privacy in the form of a giant umbrella towering over a beach chair, which is perfect for your ankle and making sure you don’t get excessive amounts of sand wedged into the bandage. You’d hate to change it again before you get to bed.

You make yourself comfortable in the chair, sitting cross-legged and pouring some of your favorite wine into a plastic cup. It’s not classy by any means—it just gets the job done. From your bag pressed into the sand, you pull out some dried fruit, cheese cubes, and crackers all in plastic containers. They sit before you in the chair and you can easily pluck one piece of food to pair with your wine. In no time at all, you have a makeshift platter to indulge on while you slowly watch the sun reach the horizon. The waves and the faint laughter of people far away tickle your ears. For as long as you can, you savor the moment, the flavors, the feeling.

“‘Scuse me, ma’am. I hate to interrupt, but that’s a mighty fine spread you got there.”

The low drawl coming from behind you is startling enough to nearly knock over your container of crackers. You look up to find a very familiar gentleman—the bleached blonde hair under a straw hat, a red and white prosthetic left arm, a crazy handsome smile and a tacky belt buckle around his trunks. When the second of admiration passes, you immediately raise your defenses and grab the towel from your bag to cover your crossed legs. Nobody’s getting a free show from you tonight, not after your drunken need to take your top off and free your oppressed boobs. You remember that much, on top of your sprained ankle and feminine ranting.

He laughs and it doesn’t make you feel better. “I was talkin’ about your food,” he clarifies. “Looks good. I never seen American cheese in little blocks.”

You furrow your brows and frown, glancing briefly at the remaining orange cubes from the cheese container as if you’re taking the offense on their behalf. “American cheese isn’t real cheese, you know. This is Vermont cheddar.”

“Well, Vermont’s in America. Doesn’t that make ‘American’ real cheese by default?”

“Pasteurized cheese product” is absolutely not the same as the tangy sharpness of cheddar. Instead of bringing up the finer points of cheese and their locations, you ask him, “Can I help you?”

He shakes his head. “Just wanted to check in on ya since you’re one of the last people here and I’m gettin’ off soon. You, uh, had a lot to drink last night. Are you feeling better?”

Your stomach drops and the wine burns more than it should when it goes down your throat. This hot person devoid of dairy knowledge is the lifeguard who went out of his way to deal with  _ you _ . The words come in staggers, wanting to explain yourself while at the same time wanting to apologize. 

“Yes,” is what you say when you finally get something out. “I’m still walking funny but I can get around. I’m...really sorry you had to see that last night.”

His laugh is hot too and you wish you could down the entire bottle of wine this instant to make this all more manageable. “You’re not the worst thing I ever had to fish out of the ocean. Far from it.”

You shouldn’t start feeling warm from his compliment. Blame it on the alcohol. Laughing nervously, you tuck your hair behind your ear and avert your gaze to the sunset. “So what  _ was _ the worst?”

“Heh. Long story.”

“I’ve got time,” you say impulsively. “Sit with me?”

“Thought you’d never ask.”

He lays down his tacky beach towel next to you, pops off his hat to reveal dark brown roots, and takes a seat. While you share your meal and school him on cheese types and dried fruit, he shares some of the most outrageous stories you’re pretty sure are fictional. Catching a gorilla attempting to dive into the ocean for a jar of peanut butter sounds more like an acid trip than an actual thing to happen to this lifeguard, who you’ve come to know as Jesse.

“It’s a hundred percent true,” he claims after biting into some manchego. “There are scientists and engineers around the world making crazy stuff happen these days.”

“Like making gorillas intelligent?”

“Yup.”

“And providing a technical solution to the current divide between omnics and humans?”

“Now, hold on there.”

You giggle and offer the dried fruit container to him. He picks out an apricot. “Kidding. I do like science, though. It’s what I do for a living.”

“Oh yeah? Where do you work?”

Based on all the correspondence and contracts you had to sign, you’re sure you can’t tell a lifeguard on a foreign beach who you’re going to work for and what you’re going to do. As exciting as your job will be, many other elements of the workplace have been kept secret and you’ve yet to set foot into a fully-operational Overwatch base. 

Tiptoeing carefully around the question and replacing your wine with bottled water so you don’t do anything else stupid tonight, you answer, “It’s a new job. I’m supposed to be working in a lab assisting a doctor and her research, traveling to conferences with her, among other things.”

“Ooh, sounds fancy,” Jesse says. “What kind of other things?”

“I don’t know yet,” you half-lie. Combat training is required for every employee and cadet of Overwatch and you’re sure as hell not going to tell Jesse that that’s one of the “other things” you’ll be doing on the job. Switching the attention, you ask, “You seem to be in tune with science, too. Got a job outside of lifeguarding?”

As if he’s hesitating to answer as well, Jesse tips his head from side to side while he chews his food. “It’s a boring gig. Gotta help an old man with all his problems.”

“So...like a caregiver?”

He snorts. “You can say that. I work with some other people to help him. A bunch of other people, as a matter of fact.”

“...And somehow, there’s some science involved there?”

“You can say that, too.”

You pout. “Whatever you say. If the place allows you to wear your hair like that, I’m sure it’s not a boring job.”

He turns to look at you, offended as he runs his mechanical fingers through his hair that looks as though a blind man dipped it in dollar-store product. “You don’t like it?”

You shake your head. “I think I’d much rather see you with your natural hair color.”

“Aren’t you sweet when you’re not drunk to high hell.”

“Shut up.” You toss a shriveled up cranberry his way, then finish up your food with him. The sun has been long gone and the moon has taken its place in the sky. It’s not wise to stay on the beach with only moonlight to guide you, but spending more time with Jesse is something you’d like to do. There’s no way you’re going to simply get back to your hotel room and dream that you made your move.

Upon tucking away your empty containers and drinks in your beach bag, you ask him, “Wanna go take this conversation somewhere else? It’s getting pretty dark.”

Without a second to spare, he nods. “I’d like that very much.”

 

You decide to take a chance on Jesse (blame it on the alcohol again) and accept his invitation to his temporary home. On one end of the beach near some outdoor showers is a small camper, decorated on the outside with a fairy-lit awning, some old beach chairs, a tie-dye towel/rug, and a plastic pink flamingo. Inside is much more cramped thanks to his futon bed and kitchen, the latter of which is comprised of an old stove and a counter with some empty pizza boxes. It’s as much as you’d expect from someone like Jesse. You press your slides into the sand and step in with his help. His head nearly touches the ceiling.

“Nice place,” you compliment as you set your bag down by the door. “Not really big...I assume you make do, though.”

He nods. “Hasn’t anyone told you that size don’t matter?”

The amount of blatant flirting and double meanings you two have exchanged on this beach is excessive. It’s about time you put your limpy foot forward and hook your fingers around the loops of his trunks, pulling him in closer towards you. Jesse responds immediately with a low hum, hands on your hips and inches away from riding up your dress to expose your ass.

“It’s not about the size,” you declare, “it’s about how you use it. So show me, Jesse, how you use it.”

Jesse tosses his hat outside his camper and grins. “Yes, ma’am.”

And he’s kissing you. You stand on your toes to reach his lips tasting like cheddar and wine. His hands waste no time in roaming your body, taking in each curve and tucking his right hand under your dress to squeeze your ass. Your moans are muted when he kneads one cheek, punctuating it with a smack and leading you to his futon. He kicks it so it unfolds to a bed, then lays you down on the small space. Hopefully, you two can get some good usage out of it despite its size.

More kisses ensue and you could honestly see yourself doing this all night. You’re comfortable enough in this bed and his body is huge and his eyes are pretty. His right hand continues to explore your body while his left holds wraps around your shoulder when he lies on his side.

“Goddamn, you’re a pretty lady,” he murmurs. “Smart as a whip, too.”

Significantly less immune to his friendly words, you smile coyly and give him a kiss. “Knowing a lot about science and cheese doesn’t make me  _ that _ smart.”

“Sure it does,” he defends. “You talked a lot about women’s rights stuff last night and that was when you had two bottles of wine by yourself. You’re plenty smart.”

Maybe you are. With a little more validation under your belt, you meet him halfway for another kiss, his tongue clashing with your own. His metal fingers slyly slip off one strap of your dress, an implicit signal to at least loosen up your dress so he can continue exploring.

Your thoughts go on hold because he goes right to grazing your inner thigh with his fingers, so close to your pussy. The moan that comes out of you is borderline embarrassing; the whole fling-with-the-lifeguard-who-saved-you is new and you’d like to not look like an idiot again. It’s kind of hard when two fingers brush up against your wet panties.

“Didn’t even set foot in the ocean and you’re soaked. Can I, darlin’?”

“Oh god, please,” you whisper, hips lifting ever-so-slightly to his fingers.

As Jesse teases you a little longer, you help him and shift to get out of the straps of your dress and bra. Pulling them far enough to show off your tits, he growls and gets his mouth on one nipple while his fingers slip beneath your panties and tap your clit. The stimulation is scarce yet inviting, nerves alive and active and sending all kinds of pleasure throughout your body. His left hand does work, too, squeezing your neglected breast and circling your nipple with his thumb. The metal is significantly cooler than his skin, though either way, you’re getting wetter and clinging to his shoulder for more.

Jesse gets to know your body in a handful of minutes. With your soft pleas and the dazed look in your eyes, he proceeds to slip a finger inside you, filling you up to reach some form of satisfaction. He pumps that finger slowly, watching your breath change as you press your nails into his skin. He curls his finger to your g-spot and your thighs tremble and rock the futon.

“Aw, come on, darlin’, it’s just one finger,” he says, then adds another while you hitch your breath once more. 

This time around, he slows down, building you up to get right on the edge. It’s the best combination of arousal and desperation. The words you want to come out can’t form, can’t find their way onto your tongue because you’re too busy whimpering and moaning his name. He attempts to satiate your need to come with kisses throughout your neck and chest, though none of it is sufficient and you’re left repeating his name.

“Jesse, Jesse please—fuck, let me come—”

His chuckle is low as his fingers curl to your g-spot once more and stay there, pressing against it with all the intentions of helping you let go. You do, with long moans and shaky hips. Tossing yourself around the mattress is out of the question, so you confine yourself to trapping his hand between your legs and grabbing his wrist when it starts to get overwhelming. Your entire body rolls up to him, accepting his kisses and his soft praise.

“Thatta girl, I bet you taste amazing.”

Jesse worms his hand away from your thighs and sucks his fingers with his eyes locked on your own hypnotized gaze. His eyes roll back and he moans, a surefire way to get you hotter and needier for him to be inside you.

Before that, all the pleasantries. He drops his trunks and tosses them on the camper floor. It makes a very loud thud that you don’t expect at all.

“Gotta carry all my supplies, don’t I?” he explains.

No matter. Your dress comes off and so do your undergarments, legs spread wide for him when he returns with a condom. Once it’s rolled onto his (sizeable) length, you beckon him to you with a giddy smile.

“Someone’s excited.”

You giggle. “Duh. I’m not gonna pass up the opportunity to fuck the lifeguard who  _ bravely _ saved my life last night.”

“Ah, that’s what this is about?” he muses, towering over you with the tip of his cock sliding easily against your wet pussy. “You just want me for my dick?”

You giggle some more as you hook your arms under his and latch onto his shoulders. “Shouldn’t it be you saying something about me owing you this?”

He laughs with you and he presses the tip inside. You both gasp. “Darlin’, the only thing you owe me is an explanation on why Velveeta ain’t real cheese.”

You thought you had already explained that and you thought Jesse was a better dirty talker than that. Thankfully, he shuts up and gets right to business pushing inside you, stretching you open like no one has ever done before. He makes any pain or discomfort easier to manage by slowing down some more, kissing your neck and quietly reassuring that he’s going to make you feel good. Your stomach is warm with a strange sense of endearment on top of bliss by the time he fits all of himself inside you.

“You okay?” he asks. “Can I move?”

You give it a moment or two before nodding. “You said you’re gonna make me feel good. Show me.”

Jesse’s groan drops to something  _ deep _ and you’re already clenching around him. His lips shift from your face to your ear, replying, “You’ll feel it for days.”

With that, he starts moving. His thrusts are deep and slow, getting you worked up while the ends of the futon bump either side of the camper. You wrap your legs around him, encouraging him to move as deeply as he can, to give you everything he’s got so you can never forget the sensation. The futon starts to creak more frequently, your legs pressing tighter around him and your nails digging harder into his shoulders. His curses are breathless and your name is beautiful when he moans it in your ear. You moan his name right back, hips lifting upwards to his own. Sweat drips down your forehead as you get closer, closer to coming again and closer to witnessing Jesse’s orgasm. He hits that spot inside you like a champion and your voice is no longer restrained to softness.

“Jesse!” you cry out loud.

He gets the hint. His right thumb does the work on your clit and helps you finish with something close to a scream. Any patron on the beach may hear what’s going on in this camper and at this point, you don’t care. His cock is incredible inside you. Your thighs quake again and the futon is surely damaging the paneling of the camper with all the impact. The noise is well worth it.

Jesse continues to move inside you, not slowing down. You release one of his shoulders to thread your fingers through his ugly-dyed hair, tiling your head up to give him a kiss. “Come on. Let me feel you, Jesse. Your cock feels so good, fuck.”

That’s what does it for him. He slams his hips and buries himself completely inside you, coming inside the condom as he groans. You pull his hair gently and whine, ankles pressing his lower back to keep him in this position. Silence falls in the camper, save for your heavy breaths.

“Fuck, darlin’,” he whispers, “that was—”

The obnoxious sound of vibrations interrupts his remark. It’s loud enough to rattle the camper and keep Jesse quiet. You’re positive it’s not your phone since it’s on airplane mode and blocking any form of distraction on your vacation. The awkward seconds pass to wait for his phone to stop going off, then he tries again. “That was amazing.”

You grin. “I mean, you’re the one with—”

His phone vibrates again. Jesse’s groan this time is an annoyed one. After apologetically pulling out of you and quickly discarding his condom, he fishes for his phone in his trunks and answers it. From what you can hear, it’s a voice more commanding and urgent.

“What the hell do you—I was busy—right now?” His face goes serious and he sighs. “Yes, sir.”

He hangs up his phone and looks at you, frowning. “I hate to do this to ya, but…”

You rise out of the futon, your smile growing smaller. “Is some other pretty girl drowning by the dock?”

He shakes his head frantically and steps forward to take your hands. “No, it’s—it’s way more serious than that. You gotta get outta here or it’ll get real dangerous here real fast.”

Your head spins with the sudden mood change. You try to search for some clarification in his eyes, but you don’t find any at all.

“I’ll come find you tomorrow morning. I promise.”

You have no idea what Jesse is going on about. In seconds, your clothes are back on and you’re making your way out of the beach and back to the hotel as fast as you can, per Jesse’s instructions. It’s a shame you didn’t even get his number. On the bright side, you got laid in a camper on the beach and your body is very much sore from all the activity. Regardless of whether or not you’ll actually find Jesse in the morning, it’s a good memory to file away for when you start to feel the pressures of working in Overwatch.

 

That morning, you don’t even get the chance to go to the beach. According to hotel staff and city officials, the beach has been closed off entirely and all public areas within range must be evacuated. So much for seeing Jesse again. Nobody has any answers for you when you ask. Through other patrons and distressed omnic tourists, you hear that it’s going to be a site for an anti-omnic attack. You hear some other buzz that some shady deal is supposed to go down on the beach. Some more creative people say that a terrorist organization planted mines in the ocean very close to shore and the local bomb squad had to disarm every single one of them by hand. Other people simply say that sharks have come to infest the waters. 

By the time you’re on a plane heading home, you’re sleeping through the hell of a morning with all the theories running through your head. Jesse stays on your mind as a constant, but he probably shouldn’t. Good things don’t always last forever.

 

The last few days of your vacation by the beach may have been botched by some unknown threat, but that doesn’t stop you from keeping your chin up. You spend the extra days double-checking that you’ve packed everything for your move to an Overwatch base on the west coast of the U.S. You say some more goodbyes to the people close to you, then wind up leaving a day earlier than planned. It works out well, though, because you have that extra day to move in all your things and get settled.

The west coast base is massive, with a million different amenities and housing that’s much nicer than your former apartment. You get another beach view from your room and the officers you’ve met so far are as kind as they are firm. Keep things classified, know all emergency signals, stick to your training regimen. The woman who went through your paperwork and approved you for the job, Captain Amari, smiles and directs you to follow her to another part of the base. Cadets and officers roam freely about the base, saluting Captain Amari and welcoming you to Overwatch.

“You will be working under Blackwatch, the covert operations division,” she explains. “Your superior, Moira O’Deorain, will take things from here. Call me if you need anything.”

Amari leaves you outside a lab, where a tall, intimidating redhead introduces herself as Moira and shows you around, including the office you’ll share with her. You get a brief summary of her current experiments and a gargantuan file on your work-issued tablet, documenting her progress.

“Summer reading,” she says. “Now, I suppose I’ll have to introduce you to our commander and the other Blackwatch members before you get to work.”

Moira means business and you love it. “Yes, ma’am.”

The Blackwatch facility is more desolate than the area where you came in. The members are sparse and much more straight-faced, which you figure is valid because the cases they deal with are much more gritty than what the media likes to report on Overwatch’s accomplishments. Moira shows you another lab, where several people are dissecting what looks like a shark. The smell is overpowering and nobody bats an eyelash.

“Is this part of your research?” you ask as you try not to choke. “I thought you primarily focused on human genetics.”

“Several sharks were found migrating to an Ilios beach last week,” she explains, leaning forward to observe the remaining digestive organs in its cavity. “They were all genetically modified by substances that could have only been obtained by Talon.”

There’s a lot to unpack—the fact that you were in Ilios last week, the talk of sharks in the ocean, the  _ lifeguard _ you banged in his camper who then immediately kicked you out. Talon is an organization you’ve heard a few times on the news, but in truth, your stomach turns at the pieces given to you and how they’re being put together.

“Don’t tell me you’re already scared,” Moira says when you don’t respond to her further explanation of the situation.

“No,” you say quickly, “it’s not that. This is fascinating. How exactly did you neutralize them?”

“It wasn’t easy,” she says when you both leave the lab. “I’ll show you who helped orchestrate the takedown.”

You follow her into what looks like a hybrid of a gym and a shooting range. Three men take a hold of the space, one of whom looks as though his entire body has been replaced with machine. He takes leave from the other two standing in the middle of the room, acknowledging you and Moira on his way out. It’s clear from the remaining men that one of them is the commander—arms folded and standing right over his subordinate even though they’re close to the same height.

The other...the other dons a hat and a prosthetic left arm. Your mouth goes dry.

“Commander Reyes,” Moira says as you approach the two men. “Your new recruit is here.”

You tell him your name with a firm handshake and a smile that doesn’t make you look overly eager to be a part of a group that just took down rabid sharks and Talon troopers. You can feel the other man stare you down when you look at Reyes.

“I look forward to working with you all,” you say.

“You say that now,” Reyes jokes. “Just wait until you get your first mission. The cowboy next to me is Jesse McCree. He and Genji will help you get used to the way we do things around here.”

Your entire body turns to lead when you try to face Jesse. Judging by the way he looks you up and down, containing his bewilderment, you know that he’s got you all figured out. It all makes sense—patrolling the beach, the poor disguise, the sudden leave he had to take when Reyes called him in the evening. 

Jesse doesn’t say anything when you introduce yourself to him (again). You sarcastically tell him when you let go of his hand, “You know, I heard tipping your hat is a sign of respect.”

Reyes laughs. “Oh, I like you already.”

Jesse glares at Reyes before looking back at you. “I’ll do you one better.” He removes his hat and bows just far enough to show you that his bleached hair is gone and he proudly sports brown hair you’re very interested in touching once you get alone time with him. As if the meet-cute gods are answering your prayers, Moira and Reyes turn to head out to discuss some administrative business.

“Don’t get too friendly,” Reyes tells them both before leaving. “You’ve got training first thing tomorrow morning.”

The door slams shut and you use all your willpower to not jump on Jesse like a maniac. Instead, you step closer to him and hook your fingers around his belt loops, still holding up an ugly belt buckle. “Caregiver, huh?”

He smiles and puts his hat back on, then slowly embraces you. “That was a test to see if you were gonna reveal your job, which  _ you did not tell me. _ ”

You snort. “Sure it was. Have you recovered from pulling sharks out of the water?”

“Hey now, don’t joke about that. I’m not a fan of big sea creatures with all that teeth.”

“You literally told me a story about pulling a gorilla out of the ocean.”

“Oh, right. You met Winston yet?”

You shake your head. “You can give me your own tour of Overwatch after you make up for that broken promise.”

He frowns and holds you tighter, pecking your lips. “I’m sorry, darlin’. Just wanted to protect you.”

You can feel the sincerity in his voice and there’s a lot more to be said about that. “And you did. Do I owe you again?”

He laughs and leads the way to the exit. “How about dinner?”

“That’s fair. I think there’s a place not far from here with really good mac and cheese.”

“Real cheese or that American stuff you were going on about?”

You shove him out the door and snicker. “I don’t think I told you this, but just because it isn’t ‘real’ doesn’t mean it isn’t good.”

“Aww.” He uses his left hand to tickle your side. “You’re gonna do just fine here.”

You hop closer and stand on your toes to steal a kiss. If everything works out with Jesse, on top of keeping up with Moira’s research, you think you’re going to do a lot more than fine here.

**Author's Note:**

> Nobody is allowed to comment on the sharks because Overwatch is a ridiculous game and you know it so I'm allowed to be ridiculous  
> Also I hope you all caught my sharp cheddar pun in the title orz I try my best
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you for reading! Comments, kudos, feedback and a vacation to Ilios are greatly appreciated!
> 
> [Tumblr](peachofwork.tumblr.com)


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